Amelia and the Time Traveling Physicist
by April in Paris
Summary: In which our protagonist stumbles across a stranger on the prairie and discovers more than she could ever imagine. (Just my idea of what Amy's fanfiction from episode 8x14 [The Troll Manifestation] would have been in its entirety.) AU - COOPMELIA #1
1. Chapter 1

**_Oh, come on, you know someone had to do it! So here's my little story, just my idea of what Amy's fanfiction from episode 8x14 (The Troll Manifestation) would have been in its entirety. A special thank you to my friend Melissa, who dropped everything to proof/beta read this on short notice so that I could post it as soon as possible. But all historical &amp; other errors remain mine alone. Without further ado . . ._**

* * *

**Amelia and the Time Traveling Physicist**

**An AU _Little House on the Prairie_ Fanfiction**

**by Amy Farrah Fowler**

* * *

It was just past dawn on the prairie, and, like every morning, Amelia prepared to do her chores. Except something about this morning felt different. Maybe it was the first whisper of winter in the air. Or maybe it was the unconscious, handsome man with porcelain skin and curious clothing she was about to discover lying in the field. A man who would open her mind to new possibilities and her body to new feelings.

Amelia was alone that morning and she was determined to do everything perfectly, just the way her father would. She knew how important these few days were, how much her parents were counting on her. They had taken her little brother and left her alone for the first time ever, the entire farmstead, the log cabin, the livestock all in her care. They had left for their annual trip to Kansas City to sell the crops that just been harvested and to buy the supplies needed for the rapidly approaching winter.

Coming out of the back of the barn, she saw smoke over the rise. A cry rose in her throat. Not a prairie fire! Even though the crops were all harvested, it would be impossible for Amelia to sound the alarm, save the livestock, and start battling a fire all by herself. She raced over the hill and almost tripped over him, coming down the other side.

He looked so peaceful, as though he was sleeping. He was long and thin with dark hair and the palest, most beautiful skin she had ever seen. It was even paler than hers, at the end of winter. And certainly paler than it was now, tanned by hours spent working in the sun. Who had such pale skin at the end of harvest? And what was he wearing?

There was some sort of . . . well, it was like a very small train engine . . . behind him, shiny and silver. Smoke was pouring out of a gap in the front, but there did not seem to be any actual fire. Amelia couldn't understand what she was seeing, where this . . . train had come from, even what it was. It made her head spin, and she worried that she, too, might pass out beside the stranger.

The stranger. He looked like a normal person, just like everyone she knew. She would concentrate on him. Amelia looked down at him, wondering how seriously he was injured. She saw nothing obvious. She gently reached out to touch his forehead.

His eyes popped open, and they screamed at each other, the man struggling to sit upright, Amelia struggling to get away.

"Who are you? Where am I?" he yelled, angrily, gripping the front of his unusual red shirt with what appeared to be a spider embroidered on it.

"I should ask you the same! This is my family's property, and you have trespassed here!" Amelia parroted his own tone.

"I'm Cooper, and I am not trespassing!" He looked around him, his head swiveling rapidly side to side. Then he continued, but much softer this time, "But this is not where I intended to be." He looked at his train engine and got up. "Oh, no, no, no! Something has gone wrong!"

He swung back to look at Amelia, who was still sitting on the ground. "The date! What is the date? And where am I?"

Amelia got up and put her hands on her hips. His angry tone had returned, and she was not about to let a stranger, a trespasser, no matter how beautiful his skin was, speak to her that way. "It's November third. You're in Kansas, on my family's farm. My name is Amelia."

"Kansas? What year is this?" He raked his eyes up and down Amelia, and suddenly she felt a blush. There was something about this look. She had never been looked at that way before. "Based on your clothing and hairstyle, I would conjecture the later half of the 19th century. I mean, the 1800s. Perhaps you are not aware of the astronomical year numbering system. Although you should be, as it was in 1740 that the French astronomer Jacques Cassini invented the year zero and -"

"I know what the 19th century means!" Amelia interrupted him. Who did this stranger, this Cooper, think he was, to talk to her like that? On her own farm? "It's 1886. And you have a lot more explaining to do!"

He sighed heavily. "Very well. I see now that I am at your mercy. As I said, my name is Cooper. I'm a physicist and a time traveler. I was attempting to reach Cambridge in 1672. I wanted to ask Isaac Newton a question about optics - Never mind, you wouldn't understand."

"Isaac Newton? The one who wrote laws of motion? That Isaac Newton? He's dead. How would you ask him a question, even if your train could travel over water to Europe?" Amelia felt like she was in that book her parents had given her for Christmas last year, _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_.

Cooper cocked his head and stared at her. "You know of Isaac Newton? And Cambridge?"

"Yes, I can read! I've seen a globe!" She tried to raise herself up, to get closer to his height, even though that was impossible. "I won the graduation prize last year. A copy of Shakespeare's folio."

He smiled at her and that changed everything, the angles of his face shifting. Amelia realized how blue his eyes were, how handsome he was.

"Very well," he said. "Yes, Sir Newton is dead. But I am a time traveller. I was traveling through time to meet with him."

"Time travel? I don't understand," said Amelia. His smile had softened her, and her curiosity about the things he was saying outweighed her need to stand up to him.

Cooper stared at her. "Which word don't you understand? Time or travel?"

It stung Amelia when he spoke to her this way. In her little one room schoolhouse she was always the smartest student, regularly besting the boys in her class. But this was no boy in front of her. This was a man.

And this man seemed oblivious to the insult he had just given. Instead, he sat down on the grass next to her and started to speak. He spoke as though he was giving a lecture, as though Amelia was his prize pupil. A man had never spoke to her like this before, like she was his equal, like she could understand everything he was telling her. Cooper told Amelia about all the strange and incredible things the future would hold, like computers and living past thirty. He asked her if she had any questions.

All she longed to ask was if his heart was beating as fast as hers. But she was too afraid to hear the answer. So instead she asked if in the future Montana ever became a state.

Cooper raised his eyebrows. "Why, yes. In 1889. Is that really what you wanted to know most?"

Amelia blushed and shrugged, looking down at the green grass beneath her. It would start to turn brown any day now, she knew. She hated winter.

"You still haven't told me about yourself," Cooper said, softly.

"There isn't much to tell."

"I doubt that." Something in the way he spoke made Amelia look up at him. He was looking at her, no, staring at her, and the sight of his interest made the blood rush through Amelia's ears. He was no longer at her mercy, she was at his. "All I know about you is that this is your family's farm, and you're the smartest girl here, wherever here is. But what about your family? And where are they? Shouldn't your . . . husband? . . . be around?"

Amelia blushed deeper at the question. "I'm not married. I live with my parents and my younger brother."

"Isn't that unusual for this time? How old are you?"

"I'm nineteen." Amelia felt nervous. She could not explain it, given how unusual this whole situation was, but she did not want this stranger to think there was something wrong with her. She took a deep breath. "I was to be married last autumn. His name was John. He was our neighbor. We grew up together. He was two years older than me."

"Was?"

"He died a month before the wedding. He was kicked by a horse." Amelia sighed. She had not talked about this to anyone yet, not really. "He wanted to wait to marry until the first harvest on the homestead. He was being kind. The first summer of crops is always the most difficult."

"Did you love him?"

The wind suddenly picked up and whipped around them. Amelia noticed the smoke was almost gone from the machine. In all the times she had thought about marrying John, in all the plans that were made, in all the sorrows and disappointments that came at the end, no one, not even John, had asked her that.

"I don't think so," she whispered. Shouldn't love be like _Romeo and Juliet_? An ache deep in one's soul, a craving, a need? Here, in Kansas, she knew, it often wasn't. It was a pact, a necessary pairing, one to take care of the land, one to take care of the house, a meeting in the middle to create children, more hands to help till and sow and milk and slaughter.

Amelia looked out of the corner of her eye at Cooper. He was staring straight in front of him. What was love like in his time? Was it also practical? Or was it a desire?

All of her life, her father had teased her, telling her to get her head out of the clouds, to stop believing everything she read. It was teasing - he gave her a book every year for Christmas, and far younger girls than she had been taken out of school to work the farm - but she knew it was also laced with truth. After John had died, in the midst of her sleepless nights, she had overheard her parents talking one night.

"I worry about Amelia," her father had said. "John was a good man, he would have been gentle with her. But how else will she find a husband now? She always was a dreamer, not a worker. Everyone here knows that. All we can hope is someone new comes along. I'll miss her, but what Amelia needs is someone to take her away."

"Cooper?" she asked suddenly. "Are you going to repair your machine? Are you going . . . back to the future?"

He looked at her and laughed. It was the first time he had laughed, and it was a different laugh: catchy and sharp. But pleasant.

"What's so funny?"

"_Back to the Future_! It's the name of a movie!"

"What's a movie?"

Cooper smiled. "I'll tell you later. While I work. Yes, I'm going to repair my machine. And, yes, I have no choice but to go back to the future. I don't belong here. I could never fit in, I could never hide my knowledge from the world. I would forever alter the timeline." He frowned. "I've probably already told you too much."

"Then why did you?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. You seemed like a dreamer."

Amelia turned her head away. She couldn't tell if the feeling in her stomach was longing or hunger. She realized how much time she had wasted, sitting on the hillside, listening to this magical man tell her unbelievable things. The sun was high in the sky. "Come on," she said, standing. "Let's go. I'll make you lunch. How do flap jacks sound? Since we didn't eat breakfast?"

"Oh, goody! With chocolate chips?" Cooper stood and started to walk toward the house with her.

She laughed at his childish glee. "What are chocolate chips?"

* * *

After a lunch of flap jacks, Amelia returned with Cooper to the machine. She had stopped to get her father's tool box from the barn, but as soon as Cooper lifted the shiny metal skin from the machine she knew they would be useless. It wasn't like a train engine at all or even the thrasher. The insides were green, with tiny ribbons of silver running through them, this way and that way, intersecting, some running in parallel, all the angles sharp right turns.

"Oh, what do you call these? They're beautiful," she asked.

"Circuit boards," Cooper answered. He smiled at her. "It's rare to find someone else who appreciates the intrinsic beauty of electronics. Here, help me, and I'll explain them to you."

Amelia helped, touching everything gently, afraid she might break it. She liked listening him talk, how sure he sounded, all the things he was telling her. Unable to understand at least half of it, she remained mostly silent, content to let Cooper explain everything to her. She looked at his hands as they worked. They were such beautiful hands, not at all like the hands of all the men she knew. They are so clean and there were no calluses that she could see. Curious, she purposely brushed against one. Cooper stopped what he was saying and looked up at her. She felt her heart start pounding under his gaze again.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I just . . ."

Cooper held out his hand. "Were you trying to feel it?"

Blushing, she nodded. "It's just that they look so different from what I'm used to."

"Different? _Homo sapiens_ have been around for at least 200,000 years. With the same opposable thumbs."

"Cleaner. And softer, I'd imagine."

He smiled. "There's only one way to find out. Think of it as a scientific experiment. You're testing a hypothesis."

Then he brushed his hand against hers. For the first time in her life, Amelia felt a shiver from someone else's touch. After they had agreed to marry, John would sometimes touch her hand or hold her elbow when he came over to lunch every Sunday. But never once had she shivered. Unable to help herself, Amelia took Cooper's hand in both of hers, tracing its contours with her fingertips. It was even softer than she had imagined. She turned his hand over and slowly rubbed her palm against his. She felt another shiver. She pulled her hand back, resting her fingertips against the pads of his. It felt like what she thought electricity would feel like, like all of those silver wires, running through her, coursing, turning, racing. She and Cooper, two beings of silver electricity, intersecting on the green of the prairie.

To be continued . . .

* * *

_**Thank you in advance for your reviews!**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

* * *

They worked together until the sun began to dip. Well, Cooper did most of the work, his words becoming angry mumbles instead of his earlier speeches and explanations. Amelia had helped him as best she could at first, but then she had just sat down on the ground and watched him, his lean body squeezing into the tiny spaces of his machine.

"Cooper," she said, "I think you should stop. It's getting late. I have to feed the horses and milk the cow, and I still have to cook something for dinner."

He backed his head out of the machine and sighed. "Yes, you're right. I'm already losing the light."

Amelia helped him pack everything into the machine and cover it with its shiny skin once more. She was surprised when he followed her to the barn.

"You've been so helpful to me, I will help you with your chores," he volunteered. He did help, but Amelia couldn't help but smile at him, how he was clearly unaccustomed to such physical work, how he sneezed at the hay. But he was gentle with the horses, running his hand along their graceful necks. "Who's a pretty horsey?"

"Are there horses in the future?" Amelia asked.

"Of course. In Texas, where I grew up, there are a lot of horses."

"How many did your family have?"

Cooper laughed again. "Oh, we didn't have a farm. Dad drove a semi, and Mom worked part-time as a cashier at Kmart."

There were so many things Amelia didn't understand about that sentence, she didn't know how to ask. "You're from Texas?"

"Originally. Now I live in southern California."

"Oh! I've heard it's beautiful there! And there is it summer all year long!"

He looked over at her, the earlier look having returned. "Yes, it's beautiful. Would you . . . would you like that, summer all year long?"

Amelia blushed. "Let me show you how to milk a cow. I'm guessing you've never done that before, either."

* * *

It was not a fancy meal. Amelia wondered if Cooper would be disappointed, if the food in the future was as fancy as everything else seemed to be. But he ate it hungrily, and he asked her more about her family and the closest settlement. He seemed just as interested in her answers as she had been in his stories earlier, and this pleased her, that he could find her simple, run of the mill life so intriguing.

When they were finished and she was washing the dishes, he took a small, flat, green piece out of his pocket. Amelia recognized it as a circuit board from the machine. Cooper stared at it for a long time, and she noticed the way he clenched his teeth, the rippling along his jaw. Just the sight such manliness made her shiver.

"Why did you bring that piece back?" she asked, drying the last plate.

"It seems to have been the problem. I need to determine how to fix it," he answered. Then he sighed, loudly, and put it down. "I suppose it is difficult to obtain silver here. And that it would require a great deal of time-appropriate currency."

"Silver?" Amelia raised her eyebrows. "You can buy silver jewelry in Kansas City. But, yes, it is expensive." Her heart pounded in her chest. "Are you . . . stranded here . . . without it?"

Cooper nodded. "I think so," he whispered. He shook his head and slid the small piece back into his pocket.

"Amelia?" he asked, turning in the chair toward her. "I suppose it's too much to ask if you have shower."

"What's a shower? Like a rain shower?" She gasped, "Do you have control of the weather in the future?"

He laughed, and Amelia was glad she had lifted his mood. "No, we still haven't mastered that. On _Star Trek_ they have, but not us. A shower is used for bathing. I have very high personal hygiene standards."

Assuming Star Trek was a big city, like New York, Amelia said, "You can take a bath. We keep the tub under the bed. If you help me pull it out, I will prepare a bath for you."

Cooper nodded, and he helped her drag the heavy tub out from under the high bed in the corner in which her parents usually slept. Amelia set to work, carrying buckets in from the well and heating the large pots of water on the stove. Cooper didn't offer to help, but she didn't mind. It was obvious in the barn he was not used to heavy labor. And he seemed lost in melancholy thought again.

"It's ready," she said.

He jerked slightly and looked at her. "Thank you."

He stood and looked around the single, large room. "Um, so I just, uh, undress and get in the bathtub?"

"Oh!" Amelia blushed. "Usually my father bathes after I have gone to bed. And my mother and I and my brother bathe while he is doing the evening chores."

Cooper looked at her again, and she had the same feeling she did on the prairie, their hands touching. "Maybe you should just turn around. It seems the simplest solution."

Amelia nodded and turned her back. The only sounds were the occasional popping of the burning wood in the stove and hushed whispers of Cooper removing his clothes. Amelia strained her ears, trying to make out every note. At last she heard the sound of him lowering himself into the bath.

"Amelia?" he called. She turned around and tried not to make her gasp audible. She had seen men without their shirts before, especially when they were working the fields at the height of summer. But never this close before. He asked, "Is there a washcloth?"

"A washcloth? Oh! It's over here." She retrieved the dry washrag from the table and brought it over to the bathtub. About to reach out and hand it to him, she changed her mind and got down on her knees. She lowered the washrag into the bathwater herself, Cooper's eyes watching her every movement intently, and then she started to wash his back.

He was still staring at her, and she wondered what he was thinking. He had not told her to stop, to give him his privacy. She swallowed and asked, "How is this?"

Cooper nodded, still looking at her. "Good." Then his eyes shifted away, to look forward. "It is always difficult to reach one's own back to properly wash it."

Amelia resumed the small strokes and circles on his body, and Cooper swayed slightly with the movements. The silence had returned, and, once again, it felt heavy.

"Is the water warm enough?" she asked.

Cooper looked up at her, briefly. "Given the fact that you took the time to build a wood fire, draw the water from the well, and heat it, it would be rude to complain." His eyes returned to hers, with what seemed like a small smile, before he looked down again. "But, since you asked, it's a little nippy."

"I can fix that," Amelia said, folding the washrag over the back of the tub. She got up swiftly and moved to the stove, heaving the large kettle of hot water over to the bathtub, where she poured the remainder. Perhaps she let her eyes linger, trying to make out the forms in the depths of the dark tub. But Cooper's eyes met hers again, softly, and she looked away from the secrets lurking beneath the water.

Feeling nervous, she moved to put the kettle back on the stove. "I couldn't help but notice your unusual undergarments."

"They're not undergarments," Cooper said, "they're Underoos." He gave his childish smile again. "Where I come from, they're known as underwear that's fun to wear."

Amelia glanced quickly at his folded stack of clothes before knelling beside him again. "And what's the significance of the spider?"

"Well, that represents Spider-Man. He does whatever a spider can." He looked forward again.

"There's a lot of rhyming in the future, isn't there?" Amelia asked.

Cooper turned to look at her once again, a small smile at his lips. Amelia finished washing his arm in silence, thinking of all the fantastical things Cooper had told her.

"My fingers are turning to prunes," Cooper suddenly said. "Do you have a towel?"

"Yes, of course. I put it close to the stove to warm." Amelia said, getting up, about to turn away, when he asked, "Will you do it?"

She gasped again, and this time she knew it was audible.

As he stood for Amelia to dry him, she tried to look only at his face. But it was impossible. Her heart pounded in her chest. She had never seen a naked man before. Her little brother, of course, but not a full grown man. All of the muscles she had noted in the bathtub rippled beneath his porcelain skin.

She passed the warm towel over his shoulders, his naked body glistening before her. She was feeling things she had never felt before, and she couldn't help but think of the things she heard, the things her mother had told her once, in a whisper, when she helped Amelia sew the little rosebuds along the top of the nightgown they made together for her trousseau.

Feeling brazen, she asked, "So tell me, Cooper, are the ways of physical love different in the future?"

Copper stared at her, his blue eyes burning brightly, a look that felt like something, something she did yet fully understand. "No," he said hoarsely. "But I suspect, secondary to advent of the Internet, they are more whimsically inventive."

"Hoooot," Amelia exhaled and quickly glanced away as she felt her face redden and a new pulsing coming from her . . . She was curious, both about whatever this Internet was and exactly what it meant to be whimsically inventive in the act of physical love. But she knew she had crossed a line. She knew her parents and her neighbors and God, if they saw her like this, caressing a naked stranger's body and knowing what she was feeling, would tell her it was sinful. However, the strangest thing about crossing the line is that she didn't regret it.

Amelia thrust the towel at Cooper. "You finish. I need to . . . check on the animals in the barn."

He nodded and took the towel from her. She rushed out into the crisp autumn night air and ran to the barn. It was a lie, she had completed her evening chores before the bath, but she needed a moment alone.

When she returned, Cooper was dressed again, sitting at the table, staring into the middle distance. He smiled up at her. "I need to sleep."

"Of course," Amelia nodded. "You may sleep there, in the bed."

"Isn't that where you sleep?" he asked. All of the calm she found in the barn left her instantly.

"No," she stammered. She pointed to the ladder. "My brother and I sleep upstairs, in the loft. That is my parents' bed."

"May I sleep upstairs, too?" Then he broke eye contact, looking away. "I do not like to sleep in strange places."

Amelia smiled softly. "You can sleep on my brother's mattress."

Cooper nodded and stood. "I'll just go up now, if that's okay with you. I assume you'll want a bath, too. That is the standard protocol, correct? That once the effort is extended to draw a bath for one person, everyone in the household bathes?" Then he frowned. "I'm worried it will be too cold for you now, since you had to go to the barn."

"No, I am used to it. I always bathe after Ma," Amelia said in a rush.

He nodded again, before starting to climb up the ladder.

As Amelia bathed, she wondered if Cooper was listening to her, what he was thinking. Was he peeking down between the boards? It was possible, Amelia knew, from her childhood spying. She wondered if it was another sin to hope that he was. Lingering, despite the chilly temperature of the water, she tried to resist the urge to think about his body, the angles, the curves, the mysteries revealed, the way he looked at her, the way he made parts of her feel . . . By the time it happened, by the time she realized what she was doing, the cry had already escaped her lips. Shame and confusion rapidly mixed with the pleasure still coursing through her veins. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Was that what her mother meant when she whispered about waves? Surely that wasn't natural, what she had just done. How had she even known? It was like she had been reduced to an animal, functioning only on an instinctual level.

She rose suddenly, determined to get out of the bath, to leave behind the strange things it had made her do. Amelia dried herself quickly and raced to put on one of her mother's night gowns. She considered crawling into her parents' bed, but she thought of Cooper's face when he told her told her that he did not like to sleep in strange places. He was such a man of mystery: obviously an intelligent man but at times a frightened child. Well, she supposed she would be frightened, too, to travel through time, to crash land in the wrong place. Amelia extinguished the oil lamp and climbed the ladder in darkness.

Fortunately, the light of the full moon came in through the small window and gently lit the loft. Cooper was under the blankets, his eyes shut, his clothes folded once again at his feet. She wondered what he was wearing to sleep in and felt the mixture of shame and pleasure wash over her again.

'At least he is asleep,' she thought. 'Maybe he was so tired, he feel asleep immediately.'

Just settling down herself, her heart leapt when he spoke. "I hope I choose the correct mattress."

In fact, he had not. He was curled up on her mattress. But Amelia did not want to correct him; she liked the idea of his head upon her pillow, his body wrapped in her blankets. She lied. "You did."

Then, wanting to rid herself of the pleasure and shame as quickly as possible, she said, "Goodnight, Cooper."

"Goodnight, Amelia. Thank you."

Amelia closed her eyes, trying to remember all the words of _Romeo and Juliet_ that she had memorized a year and half ago for her graduation speech. Suddenly, that felt like a lifetime ago. She was so young, so naïve, her whole life before her, graduating from her one-room schoolhouse, engaged to be married. John. He was good man, a steady man. He had his own farm, she would have been a farmer's wife, just like her mother. He would have been kind, just as her father said. And predictable.

"Was your bath . . . pleasurable?"

Her eyes snapped open at the whisper, the knot of shame returned. Only shame this time. He had heard. Feeling hot, she did not reply, hoping he would think she was asleep.

"In my time, it is not considered shameful or unnatural to find pleasure in one's bath."

There was the sound of him rolling on the mattress, and, even without looking, she knew he had turned to face her. She did not, could not, roll to face him. Instead, she lay still, trying to fall asleep, listening to Cooper's breathing, wondering if he was struggling to sleep as well. Cooper, lying both four feet and a universe away from her.

To be continued . . .

* * *

_**Thank you in advance for your reviews!**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

* * *

He was gone when she woke up. If she had not been sleeping on her brother's mattress, in her mother's night gown, Amelia would have assumed it was all a dream. She scrambled up and dressed quickly. He was not downstairs, either. The room was cold and empty. 'Please let him still be here,' she silently prayed.

Then she saw it on the table, the piece he had been inspecting last night. She picked it and tilted it into the morning sunbeam. She could see the problem, even though it was tiny. One of the silver lines was broken, a small part of it no longer properly connected. Her heart ached at the thought of the silver. She went out to do her morning chores, returning only to wrap up the leftover cornbread and to pour some of the milk into a jar. She took those along with the circuit board out to the crash site, hoping with every step that it would all still be there.

It was. She smiled as she came over the hill. Cooper was sitting on the ground, his knees bent up, his arms resting on them.

Amelia sat next to him. "You're not working. You even left your piece behind. I brought it."

He shrugged. "I can't do anything. Not without some silver."

The ache at the word silver again. Could she? No, she could not. "Well, you still need to eat. I brought milk and cornbread. It's not flap jacks, but it will have to do."

Cooper turned and smiled at her. "Do you like clementines?"

"What are clementines?"

"Small citrus fruits, like oranges."

"I think I would. I've only had an orange once, and I loved it. Why do you ask?"

His smile widening into a grin, Cooper got up. "Wait here." He went to the machine, opened the door, and rummaged around beneath the seat. He came back carrying two small orange spheres. "Clementines."

"Oh," Amelia breathed in. "Are they from California? Where it is summer all year long?"

"No, these are from South America, I think. I thought it was wise to bring along citrus to prevent scurvy from a vitamin C deficiency. It seemed prudent given the length of my journey." He put out his hand, one clementine resting in his palm.

Amelia took it from him with a smile. "Are you a doctor?"

"Yes. But not of medicine. All you have to do is peel the skin back, it's much easier than an orange."

"But you know so much about medicine!" Amelia said. He was right, of course, the skin easily tore away from the fruit inside. The sweet, sharp sent reached her nose, and she took a deep breath of it.

"I know so much about a great deal of subjects," he replied. Amelia knew that was a sin to be boastful, but she liked it when Cooper was. It didn't seem like a sin to her, to hear him talk about how intelligent and knowledgable he was. It seemed to be the truth.

She bit into a segment of the clementine and heard herself moan as the luscious nectar landed on her tongue. She quickly covered her hand with her mouth.

Cooper raised one of his eyebrows and said, "It is pleasurable?"

Amelia blushed fiercely and looked away. There was no limit to what this man did to her, the ways he looked at her, the things he said, the ways he made her feel. No, she could not let him leave her. She didn't know how she would explain it all to her parents when they returned, what Cooper would do here, how they would have any money, but he had to stay here, in this time, with her.

It startled her, the tiniest touch on her chin, turning her face back to him. "I'm sorry. They're very ripe, these clementines. The juice is running."

He rubbed his thumb along her chin, wiping away the ribbon of sticky moisture she did not know was there. She watched his face, and then he looked back up at her. They were frozen like that, leaning so close together, his thumb on her skin, electricity passing between them once again. No, she could not give him the silver.

She cleared her throat, "There aren't any seeds."

He leaned away from her, and she regretted her words. "No. They are not fertilized when they are grown commercially, so there are no seeds."

Amelia took another bite, chewing slowly to savor the rare treat. She didn't understand what he meant, so she said, "Tell me about Isaac Newton. Have you spoken before?"

* * *

There were no more tense moments that morning. Cooper talked about great scientists, then they returned to the cabin to eat lunch. She informed him that it was the day to make bread, and he surprised her, yet again, by being quite adapt at the making of bread. It was so pleasant standing at his side, mixing and kneading together.

After she had arranged the loaves inside the tiny oven, Amelia reached her arm up to wipe the sweat off of her brow. It was warm, so much warmer than usual for early November. It had turned into a beautiful day. Like it was summer . . . "all year long," she murmured to herself without realizing it.

"What?" Cooper asked.

"I was just thinking what a beautiful day it is, like summer." She peered out of the window. "Look at those beautiful clouds!" She turned to him, standing next to her. "In the future, do you ever just waste an afternoon, laying on the ground, imagining shapes and stories in the clouds?"

"We play video games to waste an afternoon. Although," he shrugged, "on a philosophical level, I can see the similarities."

"Come." She took his arm and led him out the door.

"What about the bread?" he asked. "How will we know when it's done?"

"We'll lay just right here, close by. We'll smell it," Amelia explained.

They laid in front of the cabin, watching the sky, pointing out shapes, Cooper telling her they looked like things she had never heard of, and he would explain them to her. Amelia made up a little story for him about her shapes, and he listened quietly.

"Wow," he said when she had finished, "you have a gift for this, I think. Telling stories."

"I love it," Amelia admitted. "I would love to write someday. But I don't think I have anything exciting to tell. Nothing exciting has ever happened to me. Well, until now."

Without words, Cooper took her hand, threading her fingers between his. It took Amelia's breath away.

"You know I can't stay," he whispered. "I could give you seventy-three reasons, but I suspect you know the most important ones already. I have to find a way to make some money and go to Kansas City and buy some silver. I have to go back to the future. I could never belong here."

With her free hand, Amelia reached up to brush a tear away. She knew. She had known all along. She also knew what she had to do.

They did not speak anymore. They laid on the ground, holding hands, watching the clouds, each lost in their own thoughts, until Amelia smelled the bread. They got up together, silently, and went into the cabin to take the bread out.

Cooper sat in the chair at the table again, the one he always sat in, the one Amelia was starting to consider his spot. She noticed he was looking into the middle distance again, toying with the circuit board he had taken out of his pocket, the melancholy look back on his face.

Before she changed her mind, she climbed the ladder to the loft, opened the trunk that held the ghosts of her trousseau and took it out. She mouthed, "Forgive me."

It was so thin and delicate, it didn't even made a sound when she set in down in front of him, her heart pounding. He picked it up, and the way his nimble hands held it, the care he took with it, made her chest hurt. He looked at her, and she had to turn away, to look out the window.

"It's pure silver," she said, sharply.

"Is this . . . was it meant to be . . .?" he whispered.

"Yes, it was meant to be my wedding ring. But it's just an object now. It doesn't have any power. It's not binding me to one man forever."

"I can't take this."

"You must. You don't have a choice. This is all a mistake, correct?, this was not your plan. You are not bound to this time."

To me. The words were not spoken, but they hung in the air between them, nonetheless. And then she ran out onto the prairie, tears streaming.

* * *

He was asleep in her parents bed, or at least feigning to be asleep, when she returned, well after dark. She had stayed on the prairie until sunset, and then gone the barn to complete the nightly chores. Instead of bringing the milk in, she had poured it out in the lid of milk can for the barn cats. She sat and smiled at their joy, the way they purred and tumbled over each other for it, and brought their cream covered faces up to her as she ran her hands along their fur. After their little tummies were full, they curled up on her and around her and slept with a peace Amelia knew she would never find again.

Maybe it was all an illusion or a dream, maybe it wasn't really happening, certainly no one would ever believe her, but she had seen the world and the future in those words that Cooper had woven for her, and there was no way her life would ever be the same again. Even though she didn't think she could ever understand every amazing thing he told her, she felt she had finally found an equal, that these two days had been a true meeting of the minds.

Back inside, she looked around the cabin, and saw that he had been busy while she was gone. All that was left of her ring was a small bead in the bottom of the cast iron skillet. The rest was, she knew, on the circuit board lying on the table. She didn't bend down to look. She knew it was ready, that tomorrow morning he would slide the part in place, step into the machine, and leave her forever. Somehow, knowing he had been busy, that he had done it so quickly, that he had not wasted any time, hurt more than anything else.

Cooper did not belong here, and he did not intend to stay any longer than he had to. Even knowing it was for the best, that her parents were due back late tomorrow evening, did not lessen the pain. She brushed a tear away. She had to remember what she had told him herself earlier when she was pretending to be strong: they were not bound together, regardless of the presence of a silver wedding ring.

Amelia looked over at the bed, Cooper's back turned toward the room. She could make out his broad shoulders and the jutting of his sharp hip. He was already distancing himself from her. She walked over to the edge of the bed, willing him to roll over and look at her once more. She needed him to know before he left what he meant to her, that he had touched her mind and opened her imagination to countless possibilities. But his form did not move. She noted the neat stack of his clothing setting on the trunk at the foot of the bed. Had he wanted another bath? He told her how clean he liked to be. She would have drawn another one for him, even though a daily bath was an almost unheard of luxury. Maybe . . . maybe she would have let him clean her this time. Maybe . . . maybe she was not content with just the touching of minds.

She extinguished the lamp. She untied and removed her apron, folding it and stacking it with his clothes. She took a deep breath, squeezed her eyes shut, and released the top button of her dress.

To be continued . . .

* * *

_**Thank you in advance for your reviews!**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

* * *

There was a game she used to play as a child. Each petal on the wildflower was opposite of the one before it: he loves me, he loves me not. Amelia felt that way about the buttons on her dress: I will do this, I will not. And yet she never stopped. She allowed the dress to fall to the floor beside the bed. She bent down to remove her boots.

He loves me, he loves me not. I will do this, I will not.

She untied first one braid and then the other, brushing her fingers through her freed hair, letting it fall around her.

He loves me, he loves me not. I will do this, I will not.

Another deep breath before she dropped her petticoat and stepped out of it. She gripped the blankets on the edge of the bed.

He loves me, he loves me not. I will do this, I will not.

She lifted the blankets, catching a brief glance of his naked backside, and she slid into bed next to Cooper. Suddenly timid, she quickly rolled over, facing away from him. Just like those flower petals, she both wanted this and did not. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it might come out of her chest. She could hardly breathe, waiting to see what would happen next.

He loves me, he loves me not. I will do this, I will not.

At first, nothing happened. She started to relax. Maybe he really was asleep. The precision required to make such a tiny part for his machine must have been exhausting. She shut her eyes, only to pop them open again when he rolled over. She felt him shift closer to her, the heat from his body burning through her chemise. His long fingers brushed at and through her hair. Those long fingers she had so admired. Amelia shivered under the electricity of his touch.

Cooper pulled her hair away from her shoulder, and his fingertips barely skimmed over the virgin skin he uncovered. She felt goosebumps form along the trails they made. Then his warm breath was on her ear, and the sensation was greater than she ever imagined something like that could be. She felt the strange pulsing coming from down low once more.

"Oh, Amelia. I can't take something else of such great worth from you tonight." Then he relaxed behind her and lowered his hand so that it encircled her waist.

Amelia whispered, "But I love you."

There was no reply.

* * *

It was the bright sun that woke her, streaming in the window. She sat up with a start. Immediately, she knew. The bed was empty, the neat stack of clothes were absent.

Cooper was gone.

She got up and dressed quickly, determined to race outside before he left. About to open the latch on the door, she saw it. Everything stilled. All sense of urgency lost, she walked slowly over to the table, to the open book in front of Cooper's spot. Shakespeare's folio, _Romeo and Juliet_. It had been underlined, the pencil still resting in the crevice of the book.

_It was the lark, the herald of the morn._  
_No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks_  
_Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:_  
_Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day_  
_Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops:_  
_I must be gone and live, or stay and die._

She knew then. Cooper was not just gone, he had left her forever. He had gotten up early, careful not to wake her, and left without saying goodbye. Amelia understood. He could not stay but he could not bear to say goodbye, either. This was his way of telling her.

'Stupid Amelia!' she chastised herself. If she had not spent all of her life with her head in the clouds, if she had not believed everything she read, this would not have happened to her. She thought that if she offered him everything - her mind, her love, her body - he would take it all and stay. But his silence last night had spoke volumes. She had been living in fantasy of his love. She longed for a star-crossed lover, a piteous misadventure, and that is exactly what she got.

Angry now, at herself, at the world, at the unfairness of it all, Amelia stomped to the barn, completing her morning chores. The air was so much colder than yesterday, the wind had a biting edge to it, the first flakes of winter would start falling soon. She would not go and look. She could not bring herself to climb that hill, her heart heavy, only to see what she already knew would be there: nothing but an empty plain. The horses seemed to sense her mood, and they whinnied and shifted restlessly in their stalls as she milked the cow.

Amelia went to Brownie and smoothed the short hair of his neck, trying to calm him. "Shhh, it's okay." Then her voice broke, "Who's a good horsey?"

Leaning against Brownie's muzzle, she longed for the tears she could feel burning at her chest, her throat, the back of her eyes to fall. They never came. She needed to sob, her soul ached for that release, but her body seemed unwilling. Straightening her shoulders, she walked towards the hill. Perhaps she needed to see the empty plain after all, so she could see the reality of her foolishness. Then the tears would come, and she could cry there before leaving it all behind her. Just as Cooper had left her behind.

Coming over the rise, she almost tripped for second time that week. The machine was there, Cooper was there! The silver skin was still folded back, the beautiful circuit boards exposed. Cooper was bending inside, and she saw him slide the small part into place.

She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders and yelled into the wind, "Cooper!"

He looked up and his eyes met hers. He nodded slightly and then turned back to his repairs. But Amelia saw it despite the way he was turned: the manly ripple along his jaw. Already, she knew him well enough to know it was a look of determination. She walked down the hillside and stood close to him. With a heavy heart, Amelia stood before the newly repaired time machine. She regretted giving Cooper the part he needed. As Cooper prepared to depart, tears finally filled Amelia's eyes.

He turned at last, and he took her hand in his and said, "I can't stay, but I will never forget you." He brushed his fingers against her cheek and quickly stepped into the machine.

"Please don't go," she whispered. But it was too late. The engine hummed to life. She turned away, wiping her eyes. She couldn't bear to watch her one chance for true love disappear forever.

Then, she felt a strong hand on her shoulder spin her around. It was Cooper.

"What about the future?" asked Amelia.

He looked deeply into her eyes and whispered, "There is no future without you."

He pulled her in close. She began to tremble all over. She felt his warm breath on her lips.

"I thought you didn't belong here," she said, staring into his eyes.

"I don't. But I think you don't either."

His lips pressed to hers, and Amelia felt her eyes involuntarily close. Everything about this was just as warm as she thought it would be, his lips were even softer than his hands. She never felt anything like this, the way he held her, the way he touched her. Her body was blooming next to his, and she reached out for him, pulling him closer. When Amelia felt his tongue on her lips, she opened her mouth in surprise. He didn't stop tracing her lips with his tongue, and he didn't let her go. Amelia didn't understand this act, she had never heard of such a thing, but it felt pleasurable in the same way her bath two nights ago had been, the same way his fingers in her hair had been. Confusion gave way to instinct, and Amelia opened her mouth for him, wondering what he would do next. But he did not enter. Rather, she just felt his breath filling her, and she gently breathed it in. This was the future, this air, this power coming from his lungs to hers.

Too soon, he pulled away, but he left his hands on her shoulders.

"It will not be easy, I think. It is not peaceful like this time on the prairie. It is much louder," Cooper said. "On the other hand, there is indoor plumbing and video games and pasteurized milk and double the life expectancy and fifty states in the union. I'm sorry there is not more time, you must make up your mind now. I think there is only one leap possible with this crude repair."

"Is there summer all year long? And you?" Amelia asked.

He leaned his forehead against hers. "Please come," he whispered. "I love you, too."

Amelia bit her lip, torn in a way she had not expected to be. This place may have been simple and run of the mill, but it was hers. However, this man in front of her was the promise of so much more, new possibilities she could not imagine. There was an ache in her soul, a craving, a need, and only he could satisfy it.

"How long do I have?" she asked.

Cooper's brow furrowed. "Not long. Certainly not more than ten minutes."

"Wait! Don't leave!" Amelia tore away from him and pumped her arms as she ran toward the cabin as fast as she could. Frantic, her eyes darted around the room. Her copy of _Romeo and Juliet_ was still setting where she'd left it. She grabbed it, took a deep breath, and tore the front page out. Reaching for the pencil, she hastily scribbled a note to her family. It was not much, it would never be enough, but it was something. That she was safe, that she was happy, that she was gone. Clutching the book to her chest, she ran back over the hill.

He was there, barely. One foot was in the machine, and the other remained on the ground. The sound of the machine was even louder, and it seemed to be shimmering, the edges becoming hazy and indistinct. She put her hand out to his, longing to feel the electricity of his touch again.

Cooper smiled and never let go of her hand as she climbed into the machine beside him. The silver machine shuddered and vanished, leaving only the prairie grasses blowing in its wake.

THE END

* * *

_**The adventure continues in **_**Amelia and the Magic Slate**_**.**_

_**Thank you in advance for your reviews! I have so much enjoyed writing this for you. In the words of one reviewer, Coopmelia forever!**_


End file.
